• Anarchist Milk Collective

No food or drink in the printing room



Gideon stood in the printing room sipping his cappuccino. He had ordered the cappuccino whilst on one of his many forays out of the office that morning. By the time he had come back in, the person who worked across from him, and whose name he was fairly certain was Camilla, had asked him to print out several reports because her computer was struggling to connect to the printer.


Gideon was skeptical as to the validity of her troubles, knowing from experience that it was a convenient excuse to pass on to your inferiors whenever you could not be bothered standing in the printing room, waiting for the paper tray to fill up. At any rate, Gideon had acquiesced, being her inferior and struggling to think of an equally plausible excuse. He had also noticed a large amount of emails had entered his inbox since he had left to go and get the cappuccino, and figured that standing at the printer would be an acceptable way to waste time before looking at them.


The printer whirred away as Gideon savoured the milky foam and looked about the room. The room was incredibly narrow, wide enough only to house the printer at the end of it, and as such, was sparsely decorated. It was unsurprising that his attention should fall upon a piece of paper stuck to the wall behind the printer that forbade, in capital letters, the presence of any food or drink in the printer room.


Gideon was well aware that there was no food or drink allowed in the printer room, and suspected that this cappuccino fell well within the classification of food or drink that were not allowed within the printer room. His suspicion had first been aroused when the office manager had told him in no uncertain terms and on more than one occasion that his previous cappuccinos had not been allowed in the printer room.


By a simple process of induction, Gideon reasoned that the settled status of this cappuccino would be no different from the others, but the thought of returning to his desk post-printing with nothing to enjoy but a cold cappuccino and a mountain of emails depressed him.


Drinking the cappuccino at his desk had not availed itself as an option since one of the reasons for being in the printer room in the first place was to avoid sitting at his desk in plain view of the inbox that was worryingly full of emails.


Gideon smiled at his stubborn logic and felt pleased with his vast superiority over the whims of the office rules. He fancied himself a bold Nietzchean uber-mensch beyond the understanding of his colleagues, for the perils of drinking a cappuccino in a printer room were not relevant to him.


Having heard the series of beeps that signified the documents were printed, he looked down at his cappuccino and was relieved to see a good quarter of it remained to drink at his desk before answering his emails. He bent forward to pick up his paper, and, as he turned quickly to leave the printer room, collided with the office manager spilling the remainder of his cappuccino over her white shirt.


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